


The Morning After

by Cbear2470



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A little smutty, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Comedy, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Except it's Phichit and We All Love Him Anyway, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mice, One Shot, Romance, Yuuri is Just a Hermit, annoying roommates, but not too smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 09:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cbear2470/pseuds/Cbear2470
Summary: Yuuri stared at the man, and then looked past him to his bedroom door longingly.“Oh? You’d rather go to bed?” the man asked and Yuuri found himself nodding.*Or, Yuuri wakes up to find a stranger sleeping on his couch.





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write one shots, but this is an honest to god one-shot, not me posting the first chapter of something and then fishing for comments by being all "MaYBE ThiS wAS a ONe SHoT LEt ME KnOW WhAt YOu THINk?!?"
> 
> Although, maybe I'll do like a series of one shots for like, meet-cutes set in a similar universe if this fic isn't totally boring. Because I love writing those good "Stick two characters in a room together and see what happens" fics. So, I mean, let me know what you think ;)

_I’ll give you $20 if you open the door. Lost keys._

Yuuri read the text at 3 AM to the sound of Phichit already clattering around in the living room. Apparently, he’d gotten into the apartment some other way and Yuuri had missed out on the cash.

Yuuri didn’t want to know how, or the state of their locks. None the less what New York club floor Phichit’s house keys were on.

Yuuri had actually bought Phichit a carabiner that he could clip to his belt loop when he went out for his birthday that year to try and mitigate this problem, which happened with annoying frequency.

Phichit had balked, “ _You seen to be under the impression that I’m either A. A Straight Man or B. A Lesbian.”_

Yuuri had muttered about how he was neither of those things and still thought they were practical, but then pulled out his back-up gift—the makeup palette that Phichit had explicitly asked him for, and that Yuuri had bought for him when Phichit had dragged him into Sephora a few weeks before that, pointed to the palette, and had said, “ _You should buy this for me for my birthday.”_

And of course, why Phichit was trying to bribe him, Yuuri didn’t know. It’s not like Phichit really had the money to give—NYU wasn’t exactly an affordable school choice and New York was not an affordable city. But Yuuri, who’d graduated last semester and was working two part time jobs—one teaching youth dance classes and the other at a coffee shop—to barely make rent did, definitely, need the money. Which was probably about as much as Phichit had considered.

Maybe it showed that somewhere in Phichit’s drunken mind he did still realize that Yuuri wasn’t exactly the kind of person that just _loved_ to have to answer the door at 3:00 AM.

There was a large crash and some laughter and shrieking from the living room and Yuuri closed his eyes and exhaled, digging around in his bed to find his phone and headphones that had gotten buried in his sheets in his sleep so he could block out the noise and get back to sleep.

He quickly turned back on the podcast he’d fallen asleep listening to, but could still hear Phichit’s voice, high and clearly full of drunken embellishments and enthusiasm, over the droll of the podcaster from the other side of his bedroom door.

Yuuri rolled over again, flipping onto his stomach and sticking his head under the pillow in a way he hoped wouldn’t suffocate him, but that maybe would muffle the noise.

He loved Phichit, he really did. But somewhere along the way, they’d agreed that one night a month Yuuri would get to stay in and get the apartment to himself all evening. And Phichit would get to go out and go harder than he usually got to when he went out with Yuuri and get to do so without judgement or Yuuri’s spiral of shame in the morning.

Because see, there were lots of people in the world like Phichit, who could go out and party and have fun and make out with strangers (and have sex with them) and feel in control and okay about it in the morning.

And then there were people like Yuuri, who only ever did those things if he was blackout drunk. So, Yuuri tended to avoid drinking too much. And as a result, lived a fairly sheltered life, where besides the people he interacted with at work, on the average day, or hell, even in the average week, the only person that he really interacted with was Phichit.

And sometimes he felt a little socially stunted for it. But also, boy, did he love lying alone in his bed. And he didn’t even mean that in an “ _Oh, boo, I’m so single and lonely kind of way_.” He genuinely valued his alone time. And his not having to worry about what other people think of him. Or, you know, STI’s.

But Phichit on the other hand could do these things and loved to do them every once in a while. So, they’d came up with this agreement that benefited both of them. One night a month where Phichit wasn’t there to balance out Yuuri’s social anxiety, and Yuuri wasn’t there to balance out… Phichit’s desire to binge drink.

And a decent percent of the time, nights like these led to Phichit not coming home at all or stumbling in quietly in the early morning and passing out on the couch until Yuuri could come out of his room in the morning and would convince Phichit to relocate to his bedroom to try and sleep off his hangover in a bed.

But then sometimes, Phichit brought the party home with him.

This wasn’t against their agreement, per se, but Phichit did know how it tended to cause Yuuri to break the “ _I won’t be judgmental of and irritated with your life choices_ ” end of their agreement. But when Phichit was very, very drunk, he would sometimes forget that.

But if there was one thing Yuuri hated, it was strangers in his space without warning. Particularly in the middle of the night. Particularly when it was suddenly occurring to him that he really needed to pee and would have to walk across the living room and face the people there to get to the bathroom.

There was another clattering sound and more laughing and Yuuri grimaced.

One day, Yuuri would somehow be rich. Doing just what he didn’t know. He didn’t currently have any high paying job prospects. But someday, someday he’d be rich enough to be able to have an en suite.

More crashing noises. More shrieking and laughter.

One day he’d be rich enough to live alone.

For a moment, Yuuri tried to brainstorm other options that didn’t include having to leave the safety of his bedroom. But Yuuri, having been living with Phichit for a couple of years now, knew better than to try and avoid it. He knew from personal experience that he’d likely end up spending hours getting angrier and angrier at Phichit for not taking the party into his room or sending it away so Yuuri could make a break for it without risking small talk with drunk people. Or alternatively he’d decide to relieve himself in a dirty mug that was lying around his room and in the darkness would under-estimate the capacity of his bladder and would end up sloshing urine out of the overflowing mug onto himself and the floor.

But at least Yuuri would be able to barter several more nights-in on days when Phichit would try to drag Yuuri out dancing from this though— when in the morning Phichit was sober and apologetic, so Yuuri figured he might as well try and get over it.

So, Yuuri got out of bed, put on a pair of sweatpants, and ran his hand through his hair with hope to god he didn’t look too completely shit. But then he also took a moment to try and reassure himself that whoever it was on the other side of the door was inevitably hammered and wouldn’t care if Yuuri was wearing a burlap sack.

Hell, they came home with Phichit—depending on Phichit’s mood that night and where he’d ended up, they could be in leather or drag or wearing nothing but jockstraps.

And with that slightly cringey thought, Yuuri opened the door.

“Yuuri!” Phichit called immediately spinning around and grinning at Yuuri, his voice too loud. “Did we wake you?”

Yuuri smiled tightly—it wasn’t worth responding. He kept his head down and started to make a beeline towards the bathroom.

“Oh no! We have to be quiet guys!” Phichit said, “We’re bothering Yuuri. Shh!” he hushed, fighting back a fit of giggles.

“Peaches! You didn’t tell me your roommate was so cute!” an accented-voice that Yuuri didn’t recognize gasped. Yuuri walked faster. “Isn’t he cute, Vik?”

And then someone grabbed him by the arm.

Yuuri spun around to face the room, using the arm that wasn’t now in the possession of a drunk stranger to rub at his eyes tiredly.

“Hello,” another voice said and Yuuri looked up to find himself staring straight at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and who didn’t look sloppy drunk and disheveled but instead was wearing a suit, the jacket off and tossed over the back of the couch and button-down shirt slightly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, with floppy platinum hair falling into his face.

And Yuuri remembered that he was wearing a Pokémon t-shirt that he’d had since he was probably about twelve and a pair of NYU sweatpants that he’d won his junior year at a trivia night. And his hair was probably sticking out at ridiculous angles.

And Yuuri suddenly wished he had a burlap sack to hide in.

“Christophe,” Phichit interjected, clearly trying at least to sound serious. “Leave Yuuri alone, he’s fragile.”

“Fragile, eh?” Christophe said, his voice taking a tone that Yuuri didn’t like at all. Thankfully though, Phichit stumbled over and began to try and pry Christophe’s arm off of Yuuri’s.

Unfortunately, Phichit’s hand-eye coordination didn’t seem to be super stellar at this point in the evening, and when he couldn’t pry Christophe’s fingers undone, he decided to instead just attempt to pull Yuuri away.

And Yuuri was suddenly caught up in a game of tug-of-war where he was the rope.

Which was exactly as enjoyable as it sounded.

“Chris, leave the boy alone!” the man sitting on the couch laughed, and Yuuri realized that he had an accent as well. Different then Christophe’s though. What was it, some kind of expat extravaganza at House of Yes? “I know you enjoy tearing men to pieces, but I think you should stick to doing so metaphorically.”

Then Christophe said something in what Yuuri was pretty sure was French, because this experience was starting to feel more and more like a fever dream, to the man on the couch. And the man said something back.

And Christophe let go.

And Yuuri practically ran to the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind him.

Yuuri did what he needed to quickly, but then found himself sitting down on the toilet, carefully listening to the noise in the apartment, hoping that Phichit would take pity on him and would relocate his company for long enough for Yuuri to dash back to his room.

When he heard the front door slam, Yuuri’s heart leapt and he quickly got up, pausing for just a moment to run his hands under the water in the sink, but shutting it of before the water even got warm and wiping his hands on his sweatpants before hurrying out of the bathroom.

When he saw someone leaning up against the kitchen counter, though, Yuuri froze.

“Hello again,” the man said, looking up at Yuuri and looking too cool while doing it. Yuuri knew he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Do you want to have a drink with us? Phichit and Chris just ran across the street to get some beer from the bodega.”

Yuuri stared at the man, and then looked past him to his bedroom door longingly.

“Oh? You’d rather go to bed?” the man asked and Yuuri found himself nodding. But then when he glanced back at the man, he’d found that the man now had some kind of coy look on his face that immediately soured Yuuri’s stomach. Then, before Yuuri could figure out what was going on, he was taking a step closer to Yuuri. Then he was reaching out a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek. “And here I thought I was a bit of a third wheel tonight.”

Yuuri took a step back, stumbling away from the other man in confusion, practically falling backwards into the trashcan. This was definitely some kind of weird fever dream. But Yuuri didn’t remember feeling sick before bed.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Because what it seemed like the man was referring to, he couldn’t possibly mean. Not a man like this with someone like Yuuri. Yuuri must have been misunderstanding.

The other man’s hand fell from Yuuri’s cheek and he stood up straighter. That predatory look disappeared from his face in an instant.

“Oh,” he said, looking a little disappointed. “You just want to go back to bed, yeah?”

Yuuri nodded quickly and the other man sighed and scratched the back of his neck in what might have been a nervous gesture.

“Well, I’ll let you through then,” the man said, stepping aside and gesturing for Yuuri to pass. Yuuri did, quickly making the few paces across the small apartment back to his bedroom door.

“Goodnight Yuuri,” the man called out behind him. Yuuri froze, his hand on the doorknob.

“Goodnight,” he said softly in response, not turning around to look back at the intimidating stranger before slipping back into his bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind him.

*

Yuuri woke up and the apartment was blissfully quiet, morning light streaming in around Yuuri’s bedroom curtains.

It had taken Yuuri a bit too long to fall back asleep last night, partially because of Phichit and company talking and drinking on the couch until god knows when, but mostly because Yuuri was freaking the fuck out about whatever the fuck had happened with the god-like man on the way back from the bathroom last night.

Because it had certainly seemed like if he’d wanted to, the man had agreed to go to bed with him.

But that had to be a misunderstanding.

Maybe the man was so drunk he didn’t quite know what he was saying.

Maybe he was so drunk that he’d hook up with anyone that could offer any kind of mouth or fist or other orifice to stick a tongue or finger or dick into.

Maybe Yuuri was so exhausted he’d misunderstood.

But either way, Yuuri had lay in bed for a good long while once he was safely back in his room alone in the dark wondering if he’d made the wrong choice, to turn the man down.

Because well, chances to sleep with beautiful strangers didn’t come up super often for him, at least not certainly so directly.

Because as antisocial as Yuuri was, it’s not like he wasn’t ever, you know, _wanting for companionship_. Or, to be a bit more frank, _horny_. He had spent many a night trying to fantasize people into his life. But unfortunately, as long as Yuuri rarely left the house, the chances of him meeting anyone were so slim.

But then there he was, in his house, with the hottest man Yuuri had ever seen offering to sleep with him. And Yuuri had turned it down.

But unfortunately, Yuuri was not at all a sleep with beautiful strangers kind of person, not really. At least not sober. And last night, Yuuri had been very sober. And the other man wasn’t. Which was the kind of thing that made Yuuri nervous. Perhaps fairly so, for matters of consent. But Yuuri was, typically, too terrified of well, most things to ever be as good at hooking up with people in the way that he was told that everyone else over the age of fourteen on the entire planet was, statistically anyway.

Yuuri, frankly, had always found those kinds of statistics a little dubious. He’d never met a single sexually active fourteen-year-old or known any when he was fourteen (he obviously hadn’t been getting any). But also, Yuuri had historically not had a ton of friends, and had been the kind of person that any friends of his would know not to talk about sex with him or risk only receiving scandalized horror in response. So his sample was admittedly probably pretty skewed.

But nevertheless, Yuuri was good at running away from things that scared him. And then being kept up half the night worrying that something was wrong with him for doing so.

But now it was the morning after, and there was some distance. The other man had probably stumbled off into the city sometime after Yuuri had fretted himself to sleep. And Yuuri would never see the other man again.

Maybe in a few hours or days or weeks or years he’d tell Phichit what had happened and ask for him to analyze it for him. Maybe last night would be the kind of thing that Yuuri would never talk about but think about periodically for the rest of his life. But for now, he was definitely alone, with the image of the man with the floppy silver hair fading in his mind into enough of an abstraction that Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d ever really existed at all, or if he really was just a strange and vivid dream.

Which is why Yuuri could now reach a hand down into his underwear to grip himself hesitantly. It was why he could now close his eyes and imagine the man opening the door of his bedroom, just by a mistake, and catching Yuuri playing with himself.

He could imagine the stranger standing in the doorway, smirking at him and looking better than anyone has a right to early in the morning after a night of partying.

He could picture him crawling across Yuuri’s bed until he was kneeling over Yuuri, hands on either side of Yuuri’s shoulders and looking down at him, shiny hair falling away from his forehead.

Yuuri shoved his underwear down and spread his legs wider, making room for someone to slip in.

“Fuck,” Yuuri whispered to the invisible stranger as he imagined it. “Just like that.”

Yuuri came with his back arching off the bed and his mouth agape as he imagined a moan he didn’t let out—out of habit developed from his own modesty and living in tiny New York apartments with thin walls.

And when it was all done, he opened his eyes and glanced at his closed bedroom door, a nervous feeling in his chest as he imagined it once more swinging open and for the stranger to catch sight of Yuuri spread out and messy with the aftermath of his fantasy.

But of course, the door stayed shut and instead Yuuri lay there alone in his bed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

*

Yuuri lay in bed for a while after that, ignoring his body as it requested a trip to the bathroom and breakfast, instead scrolling through his phone and wondering a little how Phichit was fairing. It was only 8:00 though, so Phichit was probably still dead to the world and would be until at least noon at the earliest. Maybe later, considering how late he seemed to have been up last night.

Eventually though, Yuuri gave in to his body’s requests to be taken care of and he got out of bed and opened his bedroom door.

But then he saw that someone was asleep on the couch and that someone was tall and lanky with silver hair and definitely was not Phichit and he froze.

Yuuri, who hadn’t bothered to put on pants this time around, not exactly expecting to run into anyone, quickly stepped back into his room and shut the door, frantically grabbing his sweatpants off the floor and stepping into them, practically tripping over himself. Once he was appropriately covered, Yuuri slipped back out of the room and got a better look at the person on the couch.

Yup, it definitely was the same man from last night.

The same one that had become the leading man of Yuuri’s morning masturbatory fantasies.

Yuuri could have died from the wave of embarrassment that coursed through him.

Thankfully though, the man was definitely asleep and looked to be out pretty hard. He was sitting upright, eyes close and head lolled backwards against the back of the couch, his mouth slightly agape. He didn’t look quite as intimidating this way, but he still looked better than anyone should passed out and drooling on a strangers sofa after a night of partying should.

And in that moment, Yuuri decided it would be best for him to continue to go about the morning and ignore the stranger. Hopefully, Yuuri could use the bathroom and grab some breakfast before going back  to hide out in his room without waking the other man. Then he could put back in his headphones and block out the world. And then maybe, in a few hours’ time he could emerge from his room again and the stranger would have just disappeared like he was supposed to have hours ago.

So, Yuuri went to the bathroom and went through his usual morning routine—he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth and hopped into the shower. Typically, Yuuri might have done these things after breakfast, but due to the unforeseen circumstances, he rearranged his usual schedule.

And the urgency to clean himself up had nothing at all to do with the fact that he wanted to look a little more together than he had last night on the off chance the stranger did wake up before Yuuri could get back to his room. That definitely had not even occurred to Yuuri.

When he was finished, he put back on his clothes, a little bit regretting that he hadn’t brought a change of clothes that weren’t a Pokémon t-shirt and sweatpants. Then, he quietly made his way back into the kitchen.

He carefully peered around the refrigerator to check the couch.

The man was still there, but he’d changed position, and was now curled up on his side. Yuuri opened the freezer to grab a toaster waffle, when a bottle of vodka that had been, apparently haphazardly, put back on the top of the fridge fell to the floor with a crash.

“Careful, it’s dangerous,” a voice slurred from the couch and Yuuri looked up in horror to see the stranger on the couch looking at him.

Yuuri dove down to the floor to pick up the bottle, thankfully the glass was thick, and it hadn’t shattered, and return it to the top of the fridge, and when he glanced back at the man, his eyes were closed again.

Yuuri let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and grabbed his waffle before going to hide back on the other side of the fridge while he stuck the waffle into the toaster and grabbed some peanut butter out of the closet and refiled the tea kettle with some water and set it to boil for tea.

Yuuri cursed himself when the waffle popped out of the toaster, but when there wasn’t any more commentary from the living room, Yuuri quickly grabbed his waffle and spread it with peanut butter, carefully placing the knife in the sink and waiting for his water to boil so he could pour it over the tea bag and take his mug and plate back to his room until further notice.

The kettle clicked off and Yuuri poured his tea and prepared to make his escape. With his breakfast in hand, Yuuri quickly tip toed back across the living room.

He’d almost made it to his door when someone spoke up from behind him.

“A frozen waffle with peanut butter, what a charmingly American breakfast,” someone said and Yuuri jumped out of his skin, his tea sloshing out of his mug and the scalding water spilling over his hand. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yuuri spun around to look at the stranger. He was now sitting up on the couch, looking straight at Yuuri.

The first thing Yuuri noticed was that he’d just woken up and somehow the dress shirt that he’d slept in was barely even wrinkled and his hair wasn’t even sticking up in thirteen different directions.

And Yuuri, even if now showered still looked, well with his Pokémon t-shirt and NYU merch sweatpants and peanut butter waffle, like the college kid he technically no longer was.

And this person, this stranger, was a _man_. A real certified grown up. He was definitely older than Yuuri as well. He probably had a nice paying job and went to the gym and bought tailored suits and didn’t eat peanut butter waffles.

 _But he got trashed and come back to some twenty-one-year old’s apartment and crashed on his sofa_ , Yuuri tried to remind himself. _He can’t have his life too together_.

But fuck did he have to be so gorgeous.

“Um,” Yuuri stammered. “It’s okay.”

The other man smiled.

“So, peanut butter on waffles?” he asked.

“Um, well, you can get a box of waffles and a jar of peanut butter at Trader Joes for like a little over seven bucks. And there are eight waffles, so that’s less than a dollar a waffle, plus we can usually get through two boxes of waffles on one jar of peanut butter, assuming Phichit or I don’t take a spoon to it,” Yuuri found himself rambling. “Although, I guess that almost never happens.”

“Ah, I see,” the man said. “So desperate times.”

“Something like that,” Yuuri murmured.

“So, if I give you a dollar, can I have a waffle too?”

“What?” Yuuri asked.

“For breakfast. I told Chris last night that we’d leave together this morning, but I imagine that it’s going to be a little while before he wakes up.”

Yuuri looked around the apartment, as if expecting to find the other man he’d met last night to come out from hiding in a cabinet.

“He’s in Phichit’s room,” the man elaborated.

 _Oh, right_.

Yuuri liked to imagine that when occasionally strange men slipped out of Phichit’s room in the mornings sometimes, that they’d just been sharing a bed for convenience and comfort purposes, like when Yuuri and Phichit split a hotel room.

As far as Yuuri was concerned, Chris and Phichit were sleeping head to foot with separate blankets and a wall of pillows built up between them, like siblings who fought constantly but were forced to share a bed while visiting relatives.

“So,” the man said, standing up from the couch and coming over to Yuuri, pulling a wallet out of his pocket. “If I throw in an extra dollar, can I get you to find me some kind of pain reliever as well?”

The man held out two dollars to Yuuri. Yuuri stared at them blankly.

What was it with people offering him money today?

“Oh, uh, no, it’s fine,” Yuuri said, reluctantly putting his waffle and tea down on the coffee table. “I’ll um, go get some Tylenol out of the bathroom. Although, it’s probably not Tylenol, because I guess as you’ve noticed this isn’t really a brand name household. But Walgreen’s insists that it’s a comparable dosage and grade of acetaminophen,” Yuuri rambled nervously. “The waffles are in the freezer, you can help yourself.”

The other man shrugged and stuck the dollar bills back into the wallet.

“Thanks. I’m Viktor, by the way,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “I don’t believe I ever really introduced myself last night.”

Yuuri eyed the offered hand hesitantly but reached out and took it after a second. Viktor gripped his hand firmly. His hand was warm and soft.

“Yuuri,” Yuuri introduced himself. “But you seem to know that.”

“Ah, yes, your roommate speaks highly of you,” Viktor said.

Yuuri didn’t care to know exactly what that meant, so he let go of Viktor’s hand and took a few steps in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’ll, uh, be back.”

“Take your time,” Viktor said. “I suppose I can manage. I did it to myself, after all,” he said, rubbing his temples.

“Right,” Yuuri said, turning his back and trying to walk casually and not like he was fleeing. “Okay,” he murmured mostly to himself. “Okay.”

*

“Your breakfast is getting cold,” Viktor pointed out as Yuuri pried the charcoal remains of Viktor’s waffle out of the toaster with a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Go eat, I can fix it.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, unplugging the toaster and lifting it off the counter to go turn it upside down and shake it into the trash, hoping he’d dislodged enough of the waffle.

“I’m sorry for wasting a waffle. Are you sure you don’t want a dollar?” Viktor asked.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, “I should have mentioned that the toaster is finnicky.”

The toaster that they’d bought on clearance at Target a year ago had the grate dislodged on the left side, so instead of food being able to be raised and lowered on that side, food would just get speared and dragged down into the toaster and incinerated against the heating coils. Food could only be toasted on the right side, one item at a time.

He had been a little too shocked by Viktor’s, well, continued presence in his life though that he’d forgotten to tell the other man that while he’d gone scavenging in their medicine cabinet for pain killers.

The last of the waffle came ajar from the toaster and Yuuri put it back on the counter, plugging it back in and putting a new waffle carefully into the right side.

“Oh no, you don’t have to give me another one.”

“You’re not going to bankrupt me,” Yuuri reassured. “Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri said. “Here, drink some water,” he said as he grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and handed it to Viktor.

“Thanks,” Viktor said, going to the sink to fill up the mug.

For a few minutes, they stood in the kitchen in silence. Viktor sipped at his water, leaning against the counter, and Yuuri ignoring him while he waited for the waffle to pop up so he could slather it with peanut butter and hand it to Viktor.

“Okay, here you go,” Yuuri said.

“Thank you,” Viktor smiled and Yuuri felt obligated to look at him. “Do you want to eat with me?” he asked. “Or if you want, I’ll eat your cold waffle and you can have my fresh one.”

Yuuri pursed his lips but then caught himself and stifled a sigh.

Because as much as Yuuri wanted to go back to his room and close the door and forget about Viktor, Yuuri knew that he’d probably have to be polite and babysit him until Chris and Phichit got up.

Although he certainly wasn’t some kind of toddler, Yuuri was painfully reminded every time he looked at the other man’s sculpted forearms.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, going back to the living room where he’d left his food and sitting down on the couch. His waffle had gone hard and his tea was now luke warm and over-steeped, but Yuuri did his best to act like it was just, the most average, normal breakfast he’d ever had.

Viktor sat down beside him.

“So, tell me about yourself, Yuuri,” Viktor said.

“Oh, um, I’m not that interesting,” Yuuri said, swallowing a bite of waffle.

“Surely you don’t just sit and stare at a wall all day though?”

“Um, no, I guess,” Yuuri admitted. “I just graduated school. I studied dance at Tisch. I’m still looking for full time work, but I’ve been teaching some youth classes at a studio and picking up some shifts at a coffee place.”

Viktor nodded thoughtfully.

“What do you want to be doing, ideally?” he asked.

“I’m not quite sure,” Yuuri shrugged. “For a while my dream was to dance professionally, be accepted into a company or something like that. But I’m not sure I’m cut out for it anymore. I like teaching alright.”

“Are you auditioning?” Viktor asked.

“I did a little right after I graduated, but there aren’t a ton of companies auditioning right now, they tend to open up to fill slots seasonally. The only way you really get into a company mid-season is being in the right place at the right time after some kind of catastrophe. And I don’t really have an agent or anything, so getting other work, like theater or commercial stuff, is a little hard,” Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

“I’m sure you will,” Viktor said.

“You haven’t even seen me dance,” Yuuri pointed out.

“Oh but I have,” Viktor insisted with a smirk. “Phichit showed Chris and I a video last night.”

Yuuri’s stomach dropped. He knew exactly the video, unfortunately. Yuuri had taken a workshop on pole dancing last fall. It wasn’t for school, but someone had recommended it to him as a good contemporary dance class that would be helpful in his career. Yuuri hadn’t even realized it was pole dancing until he’d signed up.

And then, once the skill was acquired, it suddenly became one of drunk Yuuri’s favorite party tricks.

Which was where _that_ particular video happened.

“I haven’t pursued that kind of dancing professionally,” Yuuri insisted, his voice small.

“Hm,” Viktor said, his brow furrowing. “Well, you have great musicality. I’m sure it carries over into other styles of dance. But Chris was a go-go dancer for a while, he made pretty great money in tips. If you ever want to, I’m sure he’d be happy to introduce you to some people,” he added with a shrug.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, looking into his lap. “I, uh, thanks. I’m not really though—” Yuuri stammered.

“The type of person?” Viktor supplied.

Yuuri shook his head.

“Not when I’m sober, anyway,” Yuuri said.

Viktor nodded.

“Look, Yuuri, about last night,” Viktor said suddenly. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, no, it’s, uh, fine. It’s fine. I was just tired,” Yuuri stammered, and then to deflect, “So, um what about you?” Yuuri asked.

“What?”

“I mean, about yourself. What is, um, about yourself?”

Viktor smiled again and let out a gentle laugh.

“Oh, right, we’ll I’m even less interesting than you are,” Viktor said. “Actually, pretty drastically. The most interesting thing in my life is my poodle Makkachin.”

“You have a dog?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor nodded.

“Do you want to see a picture?” Viktor asked. “I have many.”

Yuuri nodded and Viktor dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone and began to scroll through an album on his phone of photos that all featured a large, fluffy, light brown poodle.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Viktor asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, and did mean.

The dog looked soft and happy, and Viktor made an appearance in many of the photos as well, looking just as soft and happy. Yuuri’s mind for just a second wandered to an image of being curled up in a bed with the both of them.

“Do you like dogs?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri shook himself out of this daydream.

“Mhm,” Yuuri said. “It’s, I mean, it’s so hard to keep a dog in the city though—it really can limit housing options and Phichit and I are already lucky to have found this place, and they don’t allow pets.”

“But maybe someday?” Viktor asked.

“Yes, someday,” Yuuri confirmed, although he didn’t exactly have a picture in his mind of when someday would be and what it would look like.

“So, did you have plans for today?” Viktor asked.

“Oh, um,” Yuuri said. “Ah, not really.”

“What did you plan to do?”

“Uh,” Yuuri said. “Honestly?”

“Sure,” Viktor nodded.

“Probably just lie in bed for most of the day. Hang out with Phichit when he gets up.”

“Hm,” Viktor said. “So I guess I’m just throwing a wrench in your plans, aren’t I?”

Yeah, was the obvious answer, but Yuuri was trying not to be rude.

And Viktor was looking at Yuuri so kindly. With his stupid cut jaw and soft, shiny hair, and gorgeous blue green eyes that a part of Yuuri that he usually tried very hard to ignore wanted to stare at forever. So instead he asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

Viktor looked at Yuuri quizzically but nodded.

“Why are you here?”

Viktor looked taken aback, and a half second later it occurred to Yuuri that his attempts at not being rude had probably just become irrelevant with a question like that.

“It was late,” Viktor shrugged, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “Chris was staying over, and Phichit offered that I could sleep on the couch,” Viktor said. “And I guess I had had a bit much to drink and wasn’t thinking too critically about it.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “I—”

“No, it’s okay,” Viktor insisted. “Now do _you_ want to know the truth?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri drew a deep breath.

“What kind of truth?” he asked.

Viktor reached out and rested a hand on Yuuri’s thigh, stroking his thumb over the material of Yuuri’s sweatpants and leaned in a bit closer to him.

Yuuri just about short circuited. Was this really happening?

“One like this,” he said. “Is that okay? Tell me if it’s not.”

Yuuri somehow managed to shut down the track of his mind that wanted to panic and instead got himself to nod.

“If I went home, I would be alone. If I slept here, there was going to be a cute guy sleeping a few feet away, and I could fall asleep pretending that he was going to come back out of his room and invite me into it.”

“Oh,” Yuuri gasped. “I—”

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” Viktor said. “It was probably out of place for me to imagine something like that. We can go slow, if you want. I can back off, if you want.”

“No, I—” Yuuri said, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“What?” Viktor asked, looking surprised.

“I mean, I wish I had had the courage to do something like that. I thought about you knocking on my door all night.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor said.

“I don’t do things like that though. I don’t know how,” Yuuri admitted, before Viktor could say anything else.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said again and Yuuri reluctantly looked back up at the other man. Yuuri couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure the man had moved in closer. “Can I show you how?”

As Yuuri nodded, Viktor caught Yuuri’s cheek in his hand.

And then he kissed him.

And then suddenly there Yuuri was, making out with a man that was just barely a step above a stranger, his heart pounding in his chest as he allowed himself to be pulled up closer against Viktor’s.

And people did stuff like this all the time, Yuuri tried to tell himself.

And Viktor’s lips were soft and somehow, he even smelled nice despite the fact that he’d been out all-night drinking and had passed out on Yuuri’s couch and probably hadn’t brushed his teeth.

And his mouth tasted like peanut butter, which wasn’t bad. Better that it could have been, because of the drinking and waking up on a strangers couch and not brushing teeth thing.

Yuuri probably tasted like peanut butter and tea.

And Viktor either seemed to be enjoying it, or just didn’t care, based on the enthusiasm that he was licking into Yuuri’s mouth.

But it was a lot. Yuuri couldn’t immediately recall the last time he’d done something like this. And he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever done something like this completely sober.

“Mm,” Yuuri said, pulling back, needing a pause before his heart tore itself free of his chest.

“Is it really hot in here?” Viktor asked suddenly as they broke apart before Yuuri could say anything else.

For a moment, Yuuri was confused, but then he thought about it and did realize the room was a bit warm. Yuuri though wasn’t really thinking about the temperature of anything but the warmth of the points of contact between him and Viktor.

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri said. “The heat in this place has a mind of it’s own. It just seems to turn on and off randomly. Our bedrooms will be the artic and for some reason it won’t kick on, but it will be a so warm outside you don’t need a jacket and just blast away all day. My rooms usually a bit cooler.”

“Oh, look at you, Mr. I Don’t Know How to Do This,” Viktor teased and Yuuri’s eyes widened.

“No, I hadn’t meant—” Yuuri gasped. But then, he was in this, wasn’t he? This was where they were supposed to head, where Yuuri had told Viktor to get himself invited. This was what he wanted, right, as much as it terrified him. Sometimes good things exist outside of your comfort zone. So instead, “I mean, do you want to see my room?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt.

“I would love to,” Viktor smiled.

*

Yuuri and Viktor were laying on Yuuri’s bed together side by side, but not touching.

It had been awkward, getting them even that far. Yuuri had invited Viktor into his room, and then promptly realized that he’d probably never really had anyone but Phichit in it before. And Viktor, well, he looked out of place in Yuuri’s room, and it suddenly occurred to Yuuri that it looked a little more like it belonged to a teenager than it did to an adult like Yuuri supposedly was—posters on the wall, unmade bed pushed up into a corner with plastic storage tubs sticking out from under it, mismatched furniture of questionable quality.

But Viktor hadn’t batted an eye and instead came in and shut the door behind them, before going to sit on the edge of Yuuri’s bed.

“You going to join me?” he’d asked, and Yuuri did.

Viktor, though, seeming to pick up on Yuuri’s nerves, followed up with, “Do you just want to talk for a while?”

And Yuuri felt a twinge of guilt, because they weren’t supposed to be talking, they were supposed to be fucking, or something, at least he was pretty sure they were. Again, he didn’t have a frame of reference, for things like this, but it was implied. Right?

“It’s a lot colder in here, actually,” Viktor had said. But this time, Viktor’s hand was on Yuuri’s thigh, and the single point of contact felt like it was setting Yuuri’s body on fire. “Why don’t we get under the covers?” he suggested.

“Yeah?” Yuuri had said hesitantly, realizing in horror he couldn’t remember the last time he’d washed the sheets, but he suddenly could remember every single time he’d masturbated on them since. “I mean, uh—”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Yuuri,” Viktor had said. “Okay?” he asked and waited for Yuuri to nod. “What do you want to do?”

Yuuri had felt a nervous jolt of adrenaline in his chest.

“I want to lie down with you,” he had said as he let out a breath he’d been holding.

And so, here they were, lying together. But they weren’t talking. Viktor just had his head turned to the side and was just staring at him and smiling gently like he was incredibly content as Yuuri’s stomach twisted itself into knots.

“Hey, what’s that scratching sound?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri didn’t have to listen to know what Viktor was talking about. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Oh, um, it’s probably just the mouse that lives under my bed,” Yuuri admitted with a grimace. Wherever Viktor lived, it probably did not have mice. It was probably nice and shiny and newly renovated. He probably did not have to just accept cohabitation with mice as a fact of life.

“A mouse?” Viktor asked.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said nervously. “I, um, don’t know if you’ve been paying much attention to your surroundings or not, but you are currently lying in a fairly shitty little apartment in New York. They’re an expected amenity.”

In all honesty, he and Phichit were lucky to have found a two bedroom that they could afford, and they could only afford it because it was a shitty, old, rat infested, unrenovated building. But there didn’t seem to be any safety hazards, so he and Phichit had taken it and spent some time giving the apartment a deep clean and bought lots of decorations to cover the scratched walls and carpets to cover the scuffed and splintering floors and called it home.

It was better than having to find a third or fourth roommate to get a bigger apartment where they might be able to get the rent split ratios down a bit further or settle on a one bedroom and have to deal with the not particularly desirable decision of either sharing a bedroom or having one of them turn the living room into their bedroom.

“Isn’t Tom the cat?” Viktor asked.

“What?

“That old American cartoon, Tom was the cat, Jerry was the mouse.”

_Oh._

“Phichit and I had just been watching _You’ve Got Mail_ , it was the first name that came to mind,“  Yuuri explained.

“And why did your vermin require a name?” Viktor asked.

“You wouldn’t name the mouse that you cohabitate with?”

Viktor rolled over to face him.

“You’re very cute,” he said.

Yuuri grimaced.

“Don’t look like that, it’s refreshing.”

“I’m a grown adult.”

“And you’re adorable, I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Viktor said, tapping the tip of Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri ignored the feelings he felt stirring in his stomach. “Why haven’t you tried to catch Tom?”

“Well, I couldn’t kill him,” Yuuri said. “And I did buy some humane traps, but I haven’t used them.”

“Why not?” Viktor asked.

“I’m not quite sure what I’d do with him if I caught him,” Yuuri shrugged. “I can imagine being caught by someone in the middle of releasing a mouse onto the streets of New York and getting yelled at for it, because it’s not like New York needs more live mice rehoused to it’s streets. And then I also worried that Phichit would take one look at it and decide to keep it as a pet. We are already hiding the hamsters from the landlord, we don’t need mice too.”

“Hamsters?”

“Oh, Phichit has several pet hamsters. They live in his room.”

“Under the bed like Tom?”

“No, they have a cage,” Yuuri said. “Although I’d probably like Tom better if he had a cage, I keep worrying he’s going to bite me in my sleep. Or that Tom is actually Meg and she’s pregnant with triplets.”

Viktor seemed to consider this, his brow furrowing seriously.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Viktor announced, sitting up in bed.

“What?”

“Why don’t we set up the trap, and if we catch Tomeg before I leave, then I’ll rehome him for you. I’ll take him to Washington Square park on my way back to Greenwich.”

“You live in Greenwich village?” Yuuri asked.

“Mmhmm,” Viktor hummed, “Now do we have a deal?”

Yuuri propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Viktor, furrowing his brow.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Sure. The traps are on the shelf right there.”

Viktor smiled and reached over to grab them off the shelf Yuuri pointed at.

“Do you have any cheese?” he asked.

Yuuri shook his head.

“I’ll go get some,” he said. “And maybe some crackers to go with it.”

*

“So,” Viktor said. “Do you think we should leave for a while and come back? Make sure we aren’t scaring Tom into hiding? We can go take a walk, maybe?” he suggested.

He and Yuuri were now perched together on Yuuri’s bed, looking down at the traps they’d set up—one in the corner of the room, the other tucked under the bed, and each loaded with a tiny little cheese plate fit for a mouse.

But Yuuri didn’t really want to go for a walk. He didn’t really want to leave his apartment for fear of shattering… whatever this was.

“Tom hasn’t been deterred by my existence before,” he said. “We can stay,” Yuuri said, ignoring the nerves that rose in his stomach. “If you want to.”

“Yeah?” Viktor said, and like that suddenly everything shifted as Viktor looked at him with his piercing eyes. Yuuri’s body tingled and his heart skipped a beat nervously. _No_ , Yuuri caught himself, _not nervous, excited_. 

Yuuri took a deep, slightly shaky breath and nodded.

Viktor tilted his head and looked at Yuuri for a few moments, and for a second Yuuri wondered if Viktor had changed his mind about him. About everything.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, and reached out to take Yuuri’s hand in his. “You know this is supposed to be fun right? Is this your first time?”

Yuuri shook his head vigorously.

“No, no,” he said. “I know. I mean,” Yuuri stammered. “Sorry, it’s just, you’re—”

“I’m what?” Viktor asked and Yuuri found himself caught on the inhale.

“So fucking hot,” Yuuri breathed out before he could talk himself out of it.

And then just like that, Viktor was kissing him again. And Yuuri was falling backwards onto the bed as Viktor crawled on top of him.

“I’m hot?” Viktor asked. “Look at you, ты прекрасен.”

“What does that mean?” Yuuri gasped as Viktor kissed the edge of his jaw.

“You’re beautiful,” Viktor said, a hand tracing over Yuuri’s stomach.

“In Russian, right?”

Viktor pulled back, chuckling a bit.

“Yuuri,” he said. “I promise that I’ll tell you everything about myself in about twenty minutes, okay? Is that okay?”

Yuuri looked away, embarrassed to be talking too much when in most circumstances in his life, Yuuri felt guilty for not talking enough.

“Sorry,” he said.

He heard Viktor sigh.

“Yuuri, I really want to take a shot at blowing that chaotic mind of yours, can I have a go or not?”

“Only my mind?” Yuuri found himself murmuring, but then slapped his hand over his mouth when he realized what he’d said.

“Don’t cover your mouth like that, it stops me from kissing you,” Viktor said, gently pulling Yuuri’s hand off his mouth and kissing the corner of it. “And saying things like that is fucking hot, okay baby? Don’t regret it.”

Yuuri nodded.

“You good to go?” Viktor asked, although he had already gone back to kissing Yuuri’s neck before Yuuri responded.

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed. “Please.” Viktor’s hand started to wander lower. “Fuck,” Yuuri gasped. “Please.”

“Mm,” Viktor hummed as he pushed Yuuri’s shirt up over his head. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

*

Yuuri was definitely going to need to wash the sheets now.

He really hated going to the laundromat.

Maybe he could talk Viktor into giving him money for a wash and fold service.

Actually, Viktor probably would without blinking, it seemed. And Yuuri would never actually ask.

“Viktor?”

“Yes ми́лый?” Viktor asked. “And you can call me Vitya, if you want. I think we’re close enough,” he said, stroking his hand absentmindedly up and down Yuuri’s forearm.

“You said you’d tell me about yourself,” Yuuri said.

“Sure,” Viktor said. “Although I hope that what we just did wasn’t a chore you had to get through in order to interrogate me.”

“No, no,” Yuuri said insistently. “I’m just curious.”

And he was. Maybe part of the appeal of hooking up with strangers for one-night stands was not having to really know anything about them and them not really having to know you, but Yuuri wanted to know Viktor.

He also didn’t want to be a one-night stand. But that thought felt a little treacherous.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, were you born in Russia?”

“Mhm,” Viktor said. “I grew up in St. Petersburg. Where are you from?”

“I was born and raised in a small coastal town in Japan. My family owns an onsen, er, like a hot spring resort.”

“That sounds nice,” Viktor said. “I’d love to visit someday.”

“I love it, although it’s not as glamorous as it—” Yuuri was saying but Viktor cut him off.

“Wait, what was that?” he asked.

“What was what?” Yuuri asked.

“There was a kind of snapping sound,” Viktor said and Yuuri’s eyes widened.

“The trap!” Yuuri gasped and both he and Viktor sat upright and scrambled to the end of the bed to look at one of the traps.

And there, inside of it, nibbling a cracker was a little brown mouse.

“Tom!” Viktor gasped, jumping off the bed and picking up the trap. “Do you think we traumatized him, you know, fucking with him in the room?”

Yuuri laughed at that and went over to stand next to Viktor and look at the mouse more closely.

“Well, I mean, I know I’m er, modest, but I’m not a nun. He’s had a fair shot at seeing a dick before this point.”

Viktor’s mouth fell open in mock scandal.

“Yuuri!” he gasped. “I never thought I’d be jealous of a mouse.”

Yuuri laughed again.

“You really shouldn’t be,” he said, wrapping an arm around Viktor’s waist and learning into Viktor’s side.

Viktor sighed and looked back into the trap.

“No, I suppose not,” Viktor said, seeming pensive. “I almost feel a little guilty for suggesting it, the poor little fella, but do you think we could leave him in there for a while? I could use a shower.”

“Oh, I mean, I can watch him—” Yuuri started but then stopped as he realized Viktor’s implication.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, shaking his head but looking fond in a way that Yuuri found reassuring. “Come on,” he said, setting down the trap and stepping into Yuuri’s NYU sweatpants, tossing his dress shirt at Yuuri.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at it. He wasn’t exactly a woman in a rom-com.

“Just let me have this,” Viktor said, “Admit it, seeing me in your sweats does something for you, doesn’t it?”

Yuuri looked at Viktor, and he was right. The sweatpants fit Viktor better than they’d ever fit Yuuri. They hugged him just right and were just beginning to tent out in the crotch. The sight made Yuuri’s heart beat faster in his chest and he took a steadying breath.

He and Viktor may have been falling into a kind of comfortable groove, slowly but surely, but the man was constantly making Yuuri a little nauseated and tachycardic.

“Fine,” Yuuri said, shrugging on the shirt and tugging it closed around himself, not bothering with the buttons.

“God, look at you,” Viktor said, pulling Yuuri in for a kiss.

“I thought you wanted to take a shower,” Yuuri murmured against Viktor’s lips. “We should be quick, I heard that mice can usually figure out how to escape these things.”

Viktor groaned, but reached backwards with the hand that wasn’t currently squeezing Yuuri’s ass to open the door.

“Alright, fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

*

“Yuuri!” a pounding came on the bathroom door. “Yuuri! Can I come in and pee!”

Yuuri looked back over his shoulder at Viktor. Viktor currently had him pinned against the shower wall, his lips against the back of Yuuri’s neck and his dick between Yuuri’s thighs.

Viktor raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide.

“Sh,” Yuuri said, holding a finger to his lips.

“One second, Peach, I’m just about finished, I’ll come out and talk to you,” Yuuri shouted.

Viktor opened his mouth, looking scandalized, “I certainly wasn’t just about finished!” he whispered.

“I’ll be right back,” Yuuri whispered back as he slid out of the shower and grabbed a towel. “Stroke yourself while I’m gone,” Yuuri said.

“Oo, bossy,” Viktor said with a grin, “I love that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yuuri said as he wrapped the towel around himself. “Give me a second,” Yuuri said before slipping out of the bathroom.

“Morning Phichit,” Yuuri said, keeping his back against the bathroom door as he closed it behind him. “How are you?”

“I really need to piss,” Phichit said, dancing around a bit for emphasis. “I asked you to let me in, not for you to come out, unless you suddenly have a weird new kink.

“Can you, like um, go in the kitchen sink?” Yuuri suggested a bit haphazardly. “I did the dishes last night, so it should be clear. I promise I’ll try not to let myself get too grossed out by it.”

“Um, okay?” Phichit said. “Is the toilet clogged or something? Should I call the landlord?”

“Um, no,” Yuuri said. “The toilet is fine. Is Chris still here?” Yuuri asked.

“Oh, uh,” Phichit looked at Yuuri sympathetically. “He just left. Did you run into Viktor this morning? I’m sorry for bringing them back, particularly without warning or any effort to be discreet.”

“No, it’s fine,” Yuuri said. “Don’t worry about it. Actually—” then there was a clattering in the shower.

“Yuuri, what was that?” Phichit asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m, uh, teaching the mouse to swim?”

“Oh my god,” Phichit gasped. “Do you have a boy in there?” he squealed. “Wait, no, oh my god, do you have Viktor Nikiforov in there?”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, trying to sound casual. “Is that his last name?”

“You’re taking a shower with him and you don’t even know his last name?” Phichit gasped. “Yuuri, what has happened to you?”

“Why would it matter if I knew his last name? Do you know the last names of everyone you hook up with?”

“Yuuri!” Phichit gasped again at Yuuri’s implied admission of it. “No, of course not, but I mean, you might recognize it from the industry you’re in. He owns a production company, he’s produced a bunch of plays, some really big ones, like things that have been running on Broadway for years.”

“What?”

“I was chatting with him last night and trying to network for you, to be honest, to see if he had any connections that could help get you cast in something. But then his friend Chris showed up and we did a lot of shots.”

“Is that why you showed him the pole dancing video?” Yuuri gasped.

“He told you that?”

Yuuri nodded.

“It’s the only video I had,” Phichit said. “And I mean, I may have been a little drunk already at that point. And it’s my favorite. And I figured if he couldn’t connect you with a casting director or something, I might as well get you laid. I’d thought that was a bit of a pipe dream though!”

“Well,” Yuuri said. “Apparently not.”

“Wow,” Phichit said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Go Yuuri. Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.”

Yuuri just stood there though, feeling a general sense of disbelief. Viktor probably had a bit of explaining to do.

But also Yuuri was still pretty hard and there was an incredibly hot naked man in his shower.

So, he supposed some things could wait.

*

“Tom is still in the trap!” Viktor announced as he picked up his pants off the floor of Yuuri’s room.

“That’s good,” Yuuri said.

“Oh no,” Viktor said.

“What?” Yuuri asked.

“You have that kind of passive aggressive tone going,” he observed. “Are you mad at me? I heard your conversation with Phichit.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Not really,” he said. “Just a little embarrassed. Now everyone’s going to think I’m trying to fuck my way to the top or something.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, turning to look at Yuuri as he pulled up his pants. “First of all, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you beforehand. And second of all, who is everyone? Phichit and Chris? I think both of them would be pretty proud of you if you were, to be honest.”

Yuuri sighed.

“You’ve spent all night and morning in my gross apartment. You have a really nice one, don’t you?”

“I lived in an apartment like this once,” Viktor said. “I only took over the company a couple of years ago when Yakov, er the founder of Feltsman Productions, retired,” Viktor said with a shrug. “Plus, we mostly do plays, not musicals. Nothing of use to you as a dancer. But I do know people I’d be happy to introduce you to, see if they have any leads.”

Yuuri sighed and sat down on the bed.

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “That would be nice.”

Viktor sat down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a problem. Here, let me have your number and I’ll text you. I have someone in mind I can set you up with for coffee with to chat maybe.” Viktor said, handing Yuuri his phone.

“Oh, okay,” Yuuri said, entering his number and handing the phone back to Viktor, trying not to feel a little disappointed.

Yuuri knew that a lot of people hook up without real intentions of a repeat. But it had been going well, Yuuri thought. But maybe Viktor just wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship.

“And here, I sent you a text, so you have mine now. I’ll get you my email as well, feel free to send me a resume, a headshot and reel if you’ve got it as well.”

“Right,” Yuuri said, looking down into his lap. “Sure thing.”

“Or,” Viktor said. “Text me just to say hello. Or if you see a cute dog on the street. Or if the weekends approaching and you need someone to go to dinner with on a Friday night. Or a Wednesday night. Or, like lunch of Tuesday. Whatever,” Viktor said, and Yuuri looked up at him. He was smiling gently, his eyes twinkling a bit.

“Yeah?” Yuuri asked.

“Of course,” Viktor said. “I should go though. We have a show that’s starting previews next week and I really need to drop by the rehearsal this afternoon.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “You’re still good to take Tom?” Yuuri asked.

“Of course,” Viktor said. “I promised I’d find him a good home, didn’t I?”

Yuuri nodded and looked down again.

“Oh, don’t look so sad ми́лый,” Viktor said, hooking his finger under Yuuri’s chin. “This isn’t goodbye. Not unless you want it to be, alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yuuri said.

“Do you want to come to the door with me, or should I let myself out?”

“I’ll come,” Yuuri said. “Let me just get on pants.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Viktor said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Shut up,” Yuuri said, laughing.

A few minutes later, Viktor stood on the other side of the threshold of Yuuri’s front door, Tom still in his trap in his hands.

“Well, I’ll see you then, I guess,” Yuuri said. “Thank you.”

Viktor rolled his eyes.

“Stop acting like I’m going off to war and kiss me, baby.”

Yuuri smiled at that and rolled his eyes as well.

“If you insist,” he sighed dramatically and leaned forward until his lips slid against Viktor’s.

Between them, Tom scurried in his trap and Yuuri took it from Viktor and put it down on the table by the door so he could pull Viktor closer.

“Okay,” Viktor said, pulling back a very long moment later. “You’re making this hard,” Viktor said. “Think of Tom, all trapped and afraid in his trap, dreaming of the fields and crumbs of a public park.”

Yuuri sighed and took a step back and handed Viktor back the trap.

“Fine,” Yuuri said, putting his hand on the edge of the door and taking a step back. “But only because of Tom.”

“Of course,” Viktor said. “Of course.”

“I’m going to close the door now, before you start to think I’ve trapped you,” Yuuri joked.

Viktor smiled.

“Oh, Yuuri, but you have,” he said. But before Yuuri could say anything else, he reached out and grabbed the door knob and took a step back, closing the door with him.

And Yuuri stood there alone on the other side of the closed door.

“Yuuri,” Phichit asked, poking his head out of his bedroom. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri laughed and shook his head.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Phichit gaped at him.

“Me?” Phichit asked, sounding scandalized. “Eavesdropping? Never. But, based on nothing in particular, you guys are obnoxiously cute together and I expect to be your best man at the wedding.”

“Oh, be quiet, Peach,” Yuuri said.

“Mm,” Phichit hummed. “Fine, I’m going to go start writing my speech for the reception. I should write up how you two only met because of me while the memory is still fresh.”

“Shouldn’t you be hungover?” Yuuri asked with a groan.

“Shouldn’t you be in your bedroom being a hermit now that your boyfriends gone home?” Phichit retorted and Yuuri huffed.

“Fine,” Yuuri said. “I guess you don’t want to hear about my night then,” Yuuri said.

Phichit’s mouth fell open as he realized he’d been caught in a trap.

“Yuuri,” he said, crossing the apartment as Yuuri ran the other direction, slipping into his room and closing the door behind him.

Phichit pounded on the other side.

“Yuuri come on, I’m sorry!” Phichit said. “Please, just like, how big is his dick? Yuuri! Tell me when I’m right! Is it like, a Twinkie? A banana? A zucchini? One of those English cucumbers that always come wrapped in plastic? Oh, were you safe?”

Yuuri though just sunk down with his back against the door and smiled.

*

Yuuri was lying in bed later that evening when he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye.

And he practically jumped out of his skin.

 _Oh shit_.

The rest of his day had passed quietly. He’d eventually come out of his room and gossiped with Phichit for a while about both of their nights. Then, Yuuri got up the mental strength to face the laundrimat to wash his sheets, and some underwear, which he was also running low on. And then, he had ended up in bed, wrapped in his freshly cleaned sheets in his supposedly newly mouse free apartment.

But, so much for that.

Yuuri found though that he didn’t really mind.

Instead, Yuuri went for his phone, clicking to find a new contact and send a message.

_Vitya, I think Tom had a Meg after all…_

The response came quickly _._

_Oh no!_

Yuuri was quick to follow up as well, although it was mostly for the sake of not overthinking it _._

_Do you wanna come over and help me catch her some time? Maybe next weekend?_

It took Viktor a few seconds longer to respond this time, but the little typing bubble had appeared immediately.

_But what if she gives birth to her triplets before then? I’m free tomorrow night. Maybe I could come over and help you set the trap and then I can take you out to dinner, let Meg enjoy hers in peace before coming back to set her free?_

Yuuri felt a nervous feeling in his chest again, but Yuuri had almost become used to it now. _Nervous_ , he reminded himself, _but excited_. _Good nervous_. _Happy_.

_Sounds like a date._

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Also this fic was semi-autobiographical, but only the really annoying parts. Like, if you want to come to my apartment and catch a mouse for me, or just, like, offer me a new place to live, hmu~~  
>     
> Also, check out my other stuff if you haven't, if you want :)


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